Waterbringer
by planless
Summary: They call her Waterbringer - because that's what she is to them. Furiosa has given her people more than anyone could have ever asked for - something to hold onto in a world with nothing worth clinging to. And as life in the Citadel goes on, an old friend stops by to say hello. [OS]


**WATERBRINGER**

* * *

They call her 'Waterbringer' – and rightly so, she supposes.

Eyes squinting against the sun, Furiosa stands on top of the Citadel and watches the people below. To any outsider the scene before them would mean nothing, only serving to tell them a story of starving people trying to feed of a starved world. But she knows better.

Her people are dressed in rags, yes, but at least those rags are clean, kept in the best state possible given the circumstances. They are dirty, no doubt, but if you look hard enough you can tell it is only the dust of a good days work. Furiosa knows, because she makes it a point for everybody to wash every day.

The little huts that are scattered in the shadow of the giant rock formation that is the Citadel barely deserve to be called such, consisting of little more than scraps of metal and the odd plane of cloth here and there. And yet they are more than anyone down there ever dared to even dream of.

They are shelter, and home. They are hope.

Furiosa knows. She drills her people into expanding and upgrading them whenever they can, with the tiniest piece of metal they can get their hands on, because the homes are hope and she'll be damned if she ever lets that hope die.

Dragging her one good hand over her forehead, she squints at the little patches of green dotted on the rusty red ground between the different houses, like stray paint on a canvas. It has taken them a good while of planning and work, but in the end they managed. Ferrying loads of the soggy, muddy earth from the place she had once called home – for her, it will always be the Green Place, despite the fact that it is no longer green but a dark, murky, grey and brown – they set up a piece of land for every home.

It has taken weeks upon weeks of fighting with the others, but in the end everyone has agreed it would be best to let the people take on responsibilities.

And so, they walked from hut to hut and gave every family their own seeds. Not too many, just a couple, so in case this hadn't worked, not too much would be lost. And yet it is more than anyone has ever given to these people in a long time.

Time and time again it surprises Furiosa how tenderly those broken souls care for the seeds, and subsequently plants, and how ferocious they become when something threatens the green. Furiosa has given her people more than just crops and things to care for.

She has given them hope. Purpose. Something to hold on to in an age that holds nothing worth clinging to.

Despite the knowledge of how the people value their greens, Furiosa has tutors walk around and visit every field each second day to check. It's not that she doesn't trust the farmers, just that too much would be lost if some of them failed to treat their greens right. They have been told how to care for the plants, but there are always those who water too much, or too little, or forget watering altogether because the long years of starvation have meddled with their brains. Although in that case usually the neighbouring home takes on the additional task of caring for the respective field. The people know how much the growing things are worth.

Furiosa's people function like a well-oiled clockwork. Sometimes, when she compares them to machines, she feels bad, because she knows they aren't things, but it is the only way that seems to work.

She has to guide them with a steady hand and set fixed guidelines, otherwise they drift apart, and they can't have that.

Not now, probably not ever.

There is not much left of the world, and what they managed to save has to be protected at all costs. They can only do so if they stick together.

And so, Furiosa is determined to make her people work. She is leading them out of the sad state they've been existing away in for years because she refuses to see them living like rats. She sees the humans in them.

And already her determination starts showing.

More children are being born. They are not strong, and neither are they healthy, but they will be better off than their parents once they reach adulthood. Everybody can tell.

They can tell because they can still see the many maladies that plagues the people - mostly the adults, because the kind of sicknesses Furiosa's people suffer from are of a sneaky and silent kind.

But the children are as healthy as they can hope for. They run, laugh, and play, to the best of their abilities, because some are born cripples. But that doesn't stop them from stubbornly keeping up with their luckier, somewhat healthier peers with a childish stubbornness Furiosa can only marvel at.

When they don't roll around in the red sands or splash about in the tiny, tiny lake - more like a big puddle - that has started forming once they established the water pattern (that is what they call it: the water pattern, the times at which the switch the waterfalls on and off again. So far three times a day seems to work fine: early morning, around noon, and evening. They turn it off again because they don't know how big their reserves are and they don't want to waste what has become the most precious thing of all), the children chase each other through the settlement. Between the huts, past the cattle and back to the Puddle, then they start over again.

Thanks to Furiosa's careful negotiations they have managed to establish a wobbly kind of trade route between the Citadel and a neighbouring settlement called the Burrow. The families that make up the Clan have managed to keep cattle for years, their herds slowly growing in number as the decades pass by.

Not only in the Citadel people are determined to survive.

Furiosa's people exchange crops and seeds for leather and strips of dried meat, at one point they even managed to wrangle two cows and a bull from them. It has taken the better part of their seeds and several runs up to the former Green Place for soil to provide the suspicious (and armed to their teeth) clan to accept the trade.

But that was years ago and the crop stores of the Citadel have long since recovered.

The cows have even born three calves, so now they have their own little herd.

They even have one pig which nobody really knows what to do with because it is too valuable to do anything with, really. They can't even remember where they got it from because it's been around for so long. So they just keep the happy animal in its pen in one of the shady caves at the bottom of the rock formation and let the children play with it.

The future is looking bright for her people, or at least somewhat better than it used to.

Still. Despite everything she has accomplished, everything she has done, Furiosa can't really settle in her new role. She can never quite seem to adapt to the new circumstances, ever unable to fully relax.

It has taken her some time but eventually she has managed to figure out what's wrong with her.

She has been running for most of her life, chasing after an ever so distant dream, and now that she's there she doesn't know how to stop. She has been fighting every day since they plucked her from her home as a child, and now she finds that she misses it.

The thrill, the chase, the hunt. She misses the danger and the exitment, the planning and the feeling she used to have after a successful mission.

Granted, they get their little raids every now and then, but those attacks are few and never really manage to do any harm.

Furiosa's battle prowess and reputation make sure of that.

So this is the reason why Furiosa always leads the runs to the oil fields herself. They trade copious amounts of water for fuel, and despite the fact that almost nothing ever happens on these trips it fills her with a strange calmness to once again climb into the cab of the war rig.

A quiet cough rouses Furiosa from her musings and she turns halfway to look at the man standing behind her. Buck, her right hand man, gives her a lopsided grin.

"The bands are ready, Imperator Furiosa."

She nods curtly and turns once more to look down at the ground far below her. At the far end of the Citadel, the trucks pull up and arrange themselves in two haphazardly groups.

Turning around, Furiosa descends the stairs that lead down into the heart of the fortress.

* * *

With determined strides she cuts through the tunnels and hallways, not once questioning where her feet lead her.

She descends roughly hewn staircases, climbs down rusty ladders and eventually emerges once again into the already sweltering heat of the morning sun.

Red sand crunches beneath her boots as she slowly strides over to where the war rig is being lowered to the ground.

Her people gather around her, mumbling amongst themselves, some even reach out to touch her.

She lets it happen, because she wants them to know she is here for them, wants them to know that she cares.

It is their way of saying goodbye, of wishing her luck and of showing their support.

So she lets it happen, despite the fact that she doesn't really like bodily contact.

Nodding at the men (and a few women) awaiting her command, she sends them a sharp glare and raises her fist to the sky.

They answer in the same way, their limbs steady and their gazes unwavering.

Furiosa almost smiles as she takes in the many hands pointing skywards and notices the bystanders around them pick up the gesture.

With a newfound spring in her step she approaches her war rig and climbs up the side of the cab.

"Let's do this!", she shouts and slips into her seat. Around her a dozens of voices rise to give the all too familiar call.

"To the Fury Road!"

Furiosa nods at Rats, who leads the second convoy. When his truck roars to life she enters the oh so familiar sequence that sends the engines of her war rig rumbling.

Together they emerge from the confines of the Citadel, followed closely by the other vehicles.

The crowd parts before them cheering, clapping, and laughing, and Furiosa is once again reminded why she does what she does.

It's for the people.

The convoys pick up speed and soon enough Rat gives her his usual thumbs up and cheeky grin before circling around and leading his band south while Furiosa heads on to the oil fields.

* * *

Fingers drumming on the steering wheel, Furiosa stares ahead without really seeing anything.

The steady roar of the war rig's engines lulls her thoughts and soothes her tingling nerves.

She knows she will miss this feeling of excitement as soon as she leaves the cab and she secretly dreads the moment where she has to take back on the roll of Imperator Furiosa.

She misses being out in the field all the time.

The convoy slows down once they near the opening that allows entrance to the protection of the Citadel, and as usually Furiosa lets the other vehicles go first before taking up her position at the rear.

The trade has gone over neatly and from the faces of her people who gather to welcome the home comers she judges that they know it.

As the vehicles are being pulled up into the bowels of the Citadel, Furiosa spots a familiar redhead in the crowd.

She watches curiously as Capable elbows her way through the throng of people and climbs up into the cab to sit beside Furiosa.

"Welcome back," the heavily pregnant woman puffs and rubs a hand over her belly.

"The little bugger in here can tell that the boss is back."

Furiosa smiles lightly and reaches out a finger to poke at the taunt skin.

"Maybe one day he will be the boss."

"I think it's a girl," Capable smiles, then sobers up quickly.

"I have good news and bad news."

"I want to hear the good news first," Furiosa announces quickly. She can feel trouble coming up.

"Tough luck, boss, because you don't get to choose," the redhead shoots back. Furiosa frowns at her but it goes largely ignored.

"So, the bad news is that the band that left for the Burrow hasn't come back yet," Capable explains unimpressed. "They should have been here yesterday but we haven't heard a single word of them."

When she hears this, Furiosa lets loose a string of words that has the future mother put both hands on her swollen stomach in a mocking imitation of covering someone's ears.

"Careful, she can hear you," she scolds. Furiosa's only answer is a fierce glare that does little to impress the other woman.

"And what is the good news?" she grinds out and clutches her steering wheel tightly. Her quick mind is already playing over various scenarios, only to be interrupted by a soft hand patting her arm.

"The good news is, that there is someone you might want to see be fore you run off to save the world" Capable says. She smiles when she sees Furiosa's incredulous stare.

"Trust me on this."

Furiosa meets her friend's gaze thoughtfully, her mind weighing the pros and cons of staying.

Eventually she nods sharply. Capable pats her arm again before clambering back out of the cab.

Dropping down onto the rusty red sand herself, Furiosa waves over Buck who has obviously been waiting for her to acknowledge him.

"I take it you've already heard what's happened," he says in greeting. "What are your orders, Imperator?"

"Get the petrol unloaded," Furiosa tells him quietly while striding over to the platform that will lift her up into the fortress. "Then prepare half the troops to leave at sunset. I am going to look for the vanished band."

Buck nods once to show he understands, then zips off into the crowd to shout at people.

Furiosa can't help the little grin that twitches around the corners of her mouth. Sometimes she has the sneaking suspicion that this is her right hand's favourite part of his job.

* * *

The coolness that fills the hallways of the Citadel is a welcome change to the sweltering heat of the last three days.

Spotting Capable who is obviously waiting for her, Furiosa follows as the redhead leads her up stairs and around corners, down the winding tunnels deeper into the Citadel.

Most other people would have been lost after the first few turns but the two women never falter in their quick and confident strides.

It doesn't take long for Furiosa to realise where she is being led; she frowns at Capable but the redhead ignores her.

When they reach a small, but heavy door she stops and turns.

"Inside," she tells Furiosa. She gives her a quick smile coupled with a knowing glance and leaves.

Furiosa watches as she floats down the corridor in a whirl of red hair and white cloth.

Then she turns and pushes open the heavy door.

As soon as she enters her quarters, Furiosa notices - well, things.

She sees the weapons strapped to a heavy belt which is draped over the backrest of her favourite chair. She notices that someone has snooped through the few personal belongings she has neatly organised in a niche that has been hewn into the rock. Some of her things haven't been put back the right way.

Last of all she notices the open door that leads onto a small balcony of sorts.

Last of all she hears the mumbling.

With a sensation of joy, but also dread filling her chest, Furiosa crosses through the room and pokes her head through the open door.

Her eyes fall on his disheveled form - the unkempt hair, the wild beard, the tattered clothes. He almost looks like one of her people, except they are cleaner.

Curious as to why he is back, she raps her scarred knuckles on the doorframe.

He flinches and whirls around, ready to defend himself.

Furiosa's eyebrows rise in interest when she notices the haunted look in his eyes fade as soon as he realises it is her.

A certain weariness remains, but still - he seems to trust her, for the most part that is. Curious.

"I haven't seen you in a while," she states matter-of-factly and leans against the wall. It is an understatement.

She hasn't seen him ever since he dropped her off at the Citadel, exhausted and feverish, but alive. Truth be told, she never thought they'd meet again, but here he is.

She watches curiously as his chapped lips curve into a light smile at her dry tone.

He hums in agreement.

Furiosa takes a step forward and sits at the ledge of the balcony. After a few moments where nothing happens, Max takes a seat next to her. Together they stare over the wasteland that stretches before them in companionable silence. Then Furiosa remembers the task at hand.

"Why are you here?" she asks briskly, but not unfriendly. He catches on.

"Do you have somewhere to be right now?" Furiosa flexes the fingers of her mechanical hand absentmindedly and nods.

"Yes."

Max takes the hint and rises. "Well, then. I won't keep you from-"

"We can talk on the way," she interrupts and squints up at him against the blinding sunlight. It is too bright for her to see his face but she knows he understands her.

That despite her harsh tone he can hear the invitation - not command - behind the words, because even though they call her Imperator and him mad, they really are not so different.

"Alright then," he says, holding out a hand. She takes it and allows him to pull her to her feet.

"Let's talk on the way."

* * *

The hot winds whip past them and don't do anything to diffuse the stifling heat that fills the war rig. Furiosa isn't sure how to breach the silence that has settled upon them as soon as she climbed into the driver's cab with Max and in which they have been caught up ever since.

Far behind them, she can see the outlines of the Citadel stark against the horizon.

"You seem to be doing quite well," Max states unexpectedly, then clears his throat. "Your people, too."

Once upon a time, Furiosa would have been uncomfortable with the notion of the Citadel's inhabitants being 'her people'. But not anymore. She has caved in because it is true, after all. They are hers.

She is in the process of leading them into a better future, down the narrow path of dwindling humanity.

They don't need someone who is filled with doubts and regrets, they need someone strong and reliable to look up to.

Furiosa wants to be that person. So she accepts her role as unelected leader of the Citadel and guides them to the best of her abilities.

"They have turned out as well as can be expected," she answers curtly. She is not delusional and knows that there are many faults to be addressed. Health issues, the shabby homes they live in, not to mention a questionable sense of morality that seems to go hand in hand with the struggle for survival. But they try, and that is more than anyone could ask for. Under her guidance, they are making the best of the situation and scrape together what humanity they have left inside their disease-ridden bones.

Furiosa checks her rear mirrors. The other vehicles follow her war rig in an orderly line, the trek stretching to almost three quarters of a mile.

Yes, they are not doing too badly.

"You look well," he tries again after a short stretch of silence.

This time, she smiles. "Can't say the same about you," she fires back but there is a playful note to her sharp words.

He catches on to it, to her immense amusement.

Tugging at his matted hair, he says, "Yes yes.. Lizards can only do so much. I should probably change my diet."

Furiosa hums in agreement and fixes her eyes on the road ahead.

During their desperate trip to the Green Place and back all those years ago they did never really talk about anything that wasn't of immediate concern to their survival.

She is surprised to now find him so open and - at ease, almost.

It is as if in the long time they haven't seen each other, a heavy weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

He walks and sits more upright, less tense, and there is a spark in his eyes that wasn't there before, a silent challenge for the world to hurl whatever it has in store his way.

"You should also cut your hair while you're at it," she suggests and throws him a sidelong glance. "We've got scissors back at the Citadel."

She doesn't say it aloud, but the invitation is there and Furiosa knows that he knows. She's offering him a place to stay.

"I'll think about it," he rumbles after a while, dirty fingers twisted in his even dirtier hair.

She accepts his words quietly and kicks down the gas pedal. The war rig shoots down the road into the desert, and she knows that, despite what they might find, everything will be alright. Because Max is here, and with this madman at her side, suddenly the rest of the world doesn't seem so mad anymore.

* * *

 _Hello to anybody who should happen to be in the Mad Max fandom!_

 _I had this story typed out quite a while ago, when I first watched Fury Road (Charlize Theron was brilliant, by the way. Can you tell I'm smitten with Furiosa?)._

 _I was still in Scotland at the time and since I didn't have a pc at hand I used my mobile phone instead.  
For all 3658 words.  
The headaches I've suffered through because of this!_

 _I only just remembered I still had it and after a quick scan decided it was okay to upload. I'm actually pretty happy with how this turned out!_

 _Originally, I was going to include this epic fight scene and everything where they hunt down the commandeered trucks, but then I was too lazy to do anything._

 _I hope you like it anyway!_

 _Let me know what you think._

 _Love,_

 _planless_


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